Reunion
by gallifreyanassbutts
Summary: **Contains spoilers through the Season 8 finale** It began when the angel radio went dead, and Ash knew something was wrong in heaven.


**A/N: this was inspired by a post ****on tumblr and I would like to thank the original poster for giving me this idea :) enjoy!**

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It started when the angel radio went dead. Ash had been minding his own business, drinking a beer when the comfortable static that he had gotten so used to during his time upstairs vanished. It just… stopped. The lack of sound in the bar made it feel cold and empty, and it was the first time since making the trip to heaven that Ash felt like there was something wrong.

"What in the hell is goin' on now?" he grumbled to himself as he pulled the contraption out from under the bar. It wasn't broken. Things Ash made didn't just break. He ran a hand trough his hair and took another swig of beer. After tweaking with the radio for a few minutes, he realized this was above his pay grade. He was going to need some backup.

It wasn't hard to find Pamela again. They hadn't been in touch much since the Winchesters' last stint in heaven. Ash let her do her thing, and she let him do his.

"Pamela," Ash called as soon as he found her. She seemed to be in the middle of a party, surrounded by other people. None of them had clearly defined faces or features. They were more like semi-solid shadows, making indiscernible noise. Pamela extricated herself from the crowd, frowning at Ash. He had interrupted her birthday party.

"What is it? The Winchesters back or what?" she asked a little too sharply. Ash didn't notice. He shook his head.

"Nothing good." He just motioned for her to follow. Pamela resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She thought she was done with this kind of shit. But she didn't protest. She obediently followed Ash back to whatever hell he was cooking up. Was this really paradise?

"You going to explain?" she asked as soon as they were back in the Roadhouse bar. Pamela liked it there. The warm smell of alcohol, burnt out cigarettes, and leather varnish gave the place a homey feel. It was familiar and felt safe. The expression on Ash's face, though, did nothing but make her feel worried. He was frowning deeply and biting his lip. Pamela didn't have to be a psychic to know that something bad was going on.

"You remember my angel radio?" he asked, crossing behind the bar. He waved his hand at the funky looking thing. Its gears were moving, and the screen was on, but it wasn't making a sound. Pamela sat down on the bar stool across from him and raised an eyebrow. She was starting to piece together what the matter was, but she was going to let him say it.

"The voices are gone. The angels are just… gone."

Pamela scrutinized the funny looking box. "No angels in heaven?"

"None that are talking, and they've been chatting nonstop up until about ten minutes ago."

"You're sure this thing isn't just broken or something?"

His expression was enough to tell her that yes, he was sure.

"So what are we supposed to do about it?" She stood up and paced around the bar. "We're dead, remember? And isn't this a good thing? The angels are assholes. More room for us up here now, right?" She knew she sounded desperate, but her mind was screaming at her to not get involved in this again.

Ash took a deep breath. "Maybe it's good for us, but where did they all go?"

Pamela shrugged. "I don't know, maybe—"

She was cut off by a sudden, sharp ringing that filled the bar. Ash's eyes jumped back to the screen, where one white row of lines was jumping around. Both of them froze, ears aching from the sound of angel talk but neither daring to interrupt. The ringing went on for a few long moments, and then it died.

"That was an angel, right?"

He nodded, biting his lip again.

"Did you understand it?"

Ash looked up and Pamela, and she could see that his worry was worse than before. He looked… scared. His eyes seemed to have sunken into his face farther and there were shallow lines around his mouth. You don't get scared in heaven. You just don't.

"Well come on, tell me," she demanded, returning to the bar. "What did it say?"

Ash ran a hand through his mullet again. Pamela wasn't going to like this. "It was a message," he said, "from this dude named Metatron. It was a warning to anyone listening. He said he purged heaven of the corrupt angels. He's in charge now, and if anyone tried to change that they would face a fate worse than hell."

The silence stretched out between them. There was a question hanging in the air, making the room hot and the atmosphere heavy. _What were they going to do_? Ash was asking the question with his eyes, because he was already signed up. Some SOB thinking he can fuck things up in heaven? No way, he wouldn't let that happen. Pamela was telling herself to get back to her party and forget this. She did enough in her real life.

But she knew she wasn't going to say that. If people needed her help, she would do what she could. That was just who she was.

"Well what the hell are we waiting for?" she asked, making a face at Ash. He grinned and ran around the bar.

"I'll round up the troops. I think I know where a few are." He flashed a wink and Pamela and disappeared through the door that once would have led to a kitchen or something. Pamela settled into the worn leather of the stool and waited. She knew she was going to regret this, but this was what her life was. Before and after death. She smirked at the empty air. Somehow, she always managed to get dragged back in again.

It took Ash about a minute to get back, and he had two women in toe. One was older with brown hair brushed back from her face and the other was young with pale skin and honey blonde hair. They both looked happy. Ash must not have told them, yet.

She stood up and said, "Pamela. Pamela Barnes," before either of the newcomers could ask.

The brunette woman stepped up and held out her hand. "Ellen Harvelle. This here's my daughter, Jo." Pamela took the hand, surprised at how firm Ellen's shake was. She must have been a hunter like the boys. She had that look about her, just like her daughter.

"You're name's familiar…." Jo said, studying Pamela's face. "Did you know Bobby Singer? I feel like he told me about you, once."

Pamela smirked. "Yeah, I knew him. Him and the Winchesters. I'm a psychic. They came to me for help a couple times."

Jo grimaced. "Sorry."

"For what?" Pamela laughed, sitting back down on the bar.

"Well… you're here…."

Ash dropped his hand down on the bar. He didn't like the look on Jo's face. He had been around her long enough before he died to know when she was getting upset. "That's enough happy conversation for now. We gotta focus."

"What's this all about, anyway?" Ellen asked, sitting next to Pamela.

Ash filled them in quickly. Ellen's expression didn't change as he explained the message and the missing angels. She was surprised, sure, but she wasn't fazed by it. Very few things got to Ellen.

"So it's up to us?" Jo asked, a fire alight in her eyes. Ellen grinned down at the countertop in font of her. Jo was just like her daddy—always ready to jump into the fight.

"Yeah, but I'm thinking we need a little more help." Ash leaned over the bar, getting right into Pamela's personal space. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but he didn't move away. "John and Mary Winchester. And I heard through angel radio that Bobby was up here, too. Something big went down when he got to the pearly gates. The angels were buzzing about it for days." He shrugged.

"Really?" Ellen asked.

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Sorry, Ellen."

She waved a hand at him. "It's fine. We should get to work. Finding them won't be easy."

Ash smiled knowingly. "And that is where you're wrong." He smirked and waited for them to ask what he meant, reveling in their annoyed expressions. It just hit him how much he had missed Ellen and Jo, seeing their familiar looks of frustration and affection.

"Well come on you asshat, what is that supposed to mean?" Jo laughed.

"After Sam and Dean got beamed back home I started hunting for Mary and John. It wasn't easy, but I got them. I just need to pop over there and convince them to lend a pair of helping hands." He pushed back from the counter and pointed at Ellen and Pamela. "You two go hunting for Bobby while I'm gone. Jo, man the bar."

Jo rolled her eyes but didn't snap back. She had mind enough to know that this was too important to argue over.

"One small problem, hotshot," Pamela drawled. "I don't have any idea how to jump heavens."

"Yeah," Ellen chimed in, "and I don't have any idea how to start looking."

Ash stilled. Being able to jump around heaven had become so natural for him, like walking out his front door. It was strange to think that nobody else knew the secrets he found out. But that didn't deter him.

"That's fine," he said, walking over to the kitchen door. He drew a sigil on it in chalk, making sure that Pamela and Ellen got a good long look at it. "Put this on a door and then think long and hard about Bobby. You both knew him long enough to remember his face. That's why I had a problem finding the Winchesters. They didn't come around the Roadhouse all that often. You get Bobby's face in you head and you'll find him fast enough."

"You sure?" Ellen asked, looking at the sigil uncertainly.

"As sure as I am that you're gonna kick his ass when you find him," he replied, grinning at the scowl she shot his way.

"You bet I'm gonna kick his ass. He got himself killed, the big old idiot." She grinned and shoved the door open, disappearing through it with the image of Bobby's scruffy face fixed in her mind's eye. Pamela followed close behind and the door swung shut behind them.

"I'll see you soon, Jo," Ash said as he followed close behind them, off to Winchesterland.

Jo took a seat on the barstool her mother had been sitting on and pulled her knife out of her pocket. Her dad had given it to her. She wondered if he was up here somewhere. Maybe after all of this was over, Ash would help her find him. Then he and her mom could be together again. They could be a family again.

Ash got back first, John and Mary close behind. Jo could see bits and pieces of Dean and Sam in Mary's face, and the sharpness of her eyes was something that came with being trained a hunter. But she had a warm smile and laugh lines around her eyes. She had gotten out of the life, Jo thought. At least, until a demon killed her. And now she was back again, hunting like the old days.

John was a surprise. Ellen had shown Jo a few pictures of him over the years. He always seemed like a serious guy with a stern face. Now, that face was marred by scars. Gouges in his skin like trenches, digging across his jaw and forehead.

"Welcome to the Roadhouse," Ash said to them. He noticed the way Jo was staring. So did John.

"The scars, right?" he asked, walking along the bar on the same side as Ash. Mary came and sat near Jo. "They were a shock to me, too. I think they're from my years in the pit."

Jo clenched her jaw and nodded, not wanting to look him in the eye.

"Sorry for staring," she mumbled, staring at the grimy surface beneath her hands.

"What the hell is taking the two of them so damn long?" Ash mused, walking back over to the door. As if on cue, the door swung open, nearly hitting Ash in the nose. Jo giggled at the ridiculous expression on his face and he backed away a few steps to let Ellen sweep by him. She was followed by Pamela and Bobby—he also had deep scars on his face, and probably the rest of his body—and another hunter. Ash couldn't believe it. Rufus, too.

"So, we good?" Ash asked, surveying the small crowd gathered in the Roadhouse. It was the biggest amount of souls this little slice of heaven had seen in years, and it had never felt more like home than now. Ellen was standing behind the bar with John, Mary and Jo were perched on stools, and Bobby and Rufus were being handed a couple beers.

It was like old times.

"Well get on with it," Rufus said. "I've only got the rest of my life."

There were a few laughs. John cracked a grin and Ellen chuckled heartily. Rufus smirked at his own joke and took a swig of beer. Bobby shook his head at him and followed suit.

"Maybe a few beers, first," Bobby mumbled around the lip of his bottle. Ellen rolled her eyes and plucked the bottle out of his hands. A few drops of the amber liquid splashed out and splattered Bobby's face.

"Oh, no, mister. We've got a job to do," she scolded, setting the bottle down firmly on the bar. Somehow, Bobby managed to scowl and look sheepish at the same time. Ellen smiled warmly and patted his cheek.

"Yeah so you're all filled in on this whole Metatron situation, right?" Ash asked, drawing attention back to himself. Everyone in the bar nodded. "Good. Well we gotta figure something out. This is on us."

"So what are we going to do?" Mary asked, leaning around Jo to get a good look at Ash. "We're just souls. We don't have any weapons to fight an angel here."

Ash held a finger up. "But we're in the mothership, and I've got the master key to the house." He pointed at the sigil on the door. "That symbol can get us anywhere in heaven."

"Anywhere like… a place where the angels kept weapons?" Jo offered, her lips curving into a wicked smile. The knife in her hand spun around a few times and then she stabbed the bar. "Well then let's go kick this son of a bitch's ass!"

There was a resounding chorus of cheers and shouts. John crossed his arms over his chest and nodded approvingly, eyeing Mary. She was smiling, a fire lit in her eyes like Jo. Ellen was shouting, shaking her fist over her head and grinning at Bobby. He was doing the same, slapping Rufus on the back and laughing. John passed out beers and there was a toast, and everyone drank deeply. Ash swallowed the drink and leaned back, studying the group.

Yup. Just like old times.

He took another swig and got up with the others. Off to save heaven, he thought with a wry grin. Goddamned _heaven_.


End file.
